


Stop of Motion

by Odyle



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2902826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odyle/pseuds/Odyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost as soon as she surfaced to consciousness, she remembered what she’d done to cause herself so much pain.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Finn.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop of Motion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muir_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/gifts).



Clarke ached.

It wasn’t a pain of the flesh, she knew those all too well, but the pain was inside of her. The last pain she could remember that felt like this was the ache that dwelt in her soul after she watched her father’s execution. Even that had been clouded by the hurt of betrayal. This time she was the betrayer. 

The ache was clarified and concentrated. Almost as soon as she surfaced to consciousness, she remembered what she’d done to cause herself so much pain.

_Finn._

There was someone touching her--checking her temperature, sticking her with a needle, and brushing her hair away from her face to tuck it behind her ears. Clarke wanted to turn over and fall back into sleep. At least when she slept, she didn’t dream. Sleep was freedom from consuming thoughts of Finn and how it felt to push her weapon into his flesh and what it had been like to stand there watching the life flee from his body knowing that her hands were responsible.

“Good morning,” her mother said softly. 

Clarke struggled to open her eyes. She didn’t want to confront the day because she knew it wouldn’t be different. The earth wouldn't have tilted on its axis after the events of the night before; there would be no reflection of this fundamental change. 

“I’ve got some water for you. There is some food if you think you can eat,” Abby said. 

Clarke nodded. It was too much even to lift her head from the pillow. She didn’t remember how she made it to bed. Her memory cut as soon as she reached the gates of Camp Jaha, Finn’s blood decorating her shirt and jacket. She didn’t recognize the shirt she was wearing when she awoke, though it might have been Bellamy’s. 

The room she was in was small and lit only by the sunlight filtering in from overhead. Somewhere, they’d come up with a small bed and the chair where her mother sat beside the bed. It should have been comforting after so many months of sleeping rough in tents and the drop ship, but it reminded her of the cell she’d been confined to on the Ark.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” Abby asked. Her hands were warm on Clarke’s skin, and her eyes were kind. Clarke remembered the scraped knees and wounded feelings her mother had nursed her through. This, however, seemed beyond even her mother’s powers of healing. 

Clarke shook her head. 

“I’ll be here,” Abby said. “When you’re ready.” 

Clarke nodded.

 

 

 

 

 

It was night when Clarke awoke again. Her mother was gone from the room, but another figure attended her. Someone had brought in a small lamp and hung it from a hook in the ceiling. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the low light and see that it was Bellamy Blake sitting in the chair beside her bed. He looked tired. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back against the wall.

Clarke forced herself to sit up. The glass of water was still where her mother had left it. She forced herself to drink. 

“Princess?” Bellamy said. His voice was groggy. She hadn’t meant to wake him from sleep he obviously needed. 

“Go back to sleep,” Clarke said. 

“I shouldn’t have been asleep.” 

She held the glass out to him, but he shook his head. Bellamy leaned forward, stretching. The hem of his shirt and jacket rose, revealing the bare skin of his lower back. Clarke hated herself for noticing. Just beside him, propped up against the wall, was a rifle. 

“How is everything?” she asked. 

“The Grounders will be meeting with your mom and Kane in a few days. They want to let everyone settle down before they try to negotiate.”

Clarke waited for him to continue. He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it just as quickly. He wouldn’t lie to her, except by omission. Bellamy didn’t have the guile necessary. 

“Lincoln is still recovering. Your mom says he’ll be fine in a few weeks,” Bellamy finally said. 

“And Raven?” Clarke asked. 

He stared at her. “Clarke, you did what you had to.” 

The ache rang through her body, through her head. Was Finn’s blood still under her fingernails? The light was too low to tell. Surely no one had thought to scrub beneath them before they put her in bed. Her skin scrawled at the thought of his blood on her. 

“I know that,” Clarke said. “But I’m not sure everyone else does.” 

“Raven… is hurt,” he said. “Your mom and Sinclair and Wick have been watching her.” 

“She hates me.” Clarke wished she could tell Raven that she agreed. 

Lincoln’s words ran in her ears. _We’ve all got a monster inside of us, Clarke. And we’re responsible for what it does._

“Give her time,” Bellamy said. 

She wondered what made Bellamy so quick to forgive her. Finn had been his friend, too. Even if he thought she’d done the right thing, there still had to be some anger there. But here he was, keeping vigil by her bed. At times, she didn’t understand him, but greatly appreciated him nonetheless. 

Bellamy held out his hand to her, and Clarke took it. 

“We’ll get through this,” Bellamy said.

 

 

 

 

 

It had become obvious that she was being watched over. Her mother and Bellamy had been trading shifts for a few days. Each time she awoke, one of them was there to offer her food and company. 

Sometimes Jackson came in to prod at her and ask her questions about her mental state. It was odd to have someone she knew well asking her such clinical questions. Clarke had always liked him, but felt no remorse at lying to him when it suited her. She knew the answers to give that would send him away with a positive impression. 

The ache was still there, but the obsessive thoughts that had driven her to sleep for days had abated. She felt, almost, like she could live again. The weight of Finn’s murder would always be on her shoulders, but each day she felt more and more as if it was a weight she could learn to carry. 

She never expected to see Marcus Kane sitting at her bedside when she awoke. They had known each other in passing on the Ark. He’d been on the Council with her mother, but Clarke hadn’t known him well. Kane hadn’t been a family friend like Jaha and some of the others. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“You want to know?” Clarke asked. 

Kane paused to consider. He licked his lips, a nervous tic he’d always had. “I think everyone wants to know, especially your mother.” 

“It hurts,” Clarke said. “But I guess there are a lot of people hurting.” 

Kane smiled weakly. “You’re right about that.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“I know what it’s like to be the enemy,” he said. 

There was silence between them as this sank in. Clarke thought of the walk from the gates of Camp Jaha to the scene of Finn’s death. It had seemed long at the time, but it wasn’t really that far, thinking back. She could probably pick out the spot from the gates, if she tried. 

“Does it ever get better?” Clarke asked. 

“No,” Kane said. “You just have to put one foot in front of another. Eventually, you learn to live with it.”

“That’s your advice?” Clarke asked. 

“Take it or leave it. You’re alive and people need you, Clarke.” 

_And here you are laying in bed,_ Clarke thought. Jackson and his questions and her guards were only an excuse to stay in bed. They had never stopped her from leaving. That had been her own decision. 

“They’re burying him today,” Kane said. “If you want to see it.” 

“Maybe later,” Clarke said. “Maybe once everyone is gone.” 

He gave her another weak smile and a nod. 

“If you want me to go with you, I will,” Kane said. 

“No,” Clarke said. “I can manage it alone.”


End file.
